


You drive me crazy... But it feels alright.

by DropsOfAddiction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Boys In Love, Come Eating, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Danger, Deepthroating, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Has Feelings, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Dorks in Love, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Hands, Idiots in Love, Jealous Derek Hale, Licking, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Oil as Lube, Pack, Possessive Derek, Protective Derek Hale, Rimming, Scenting, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sex, Some Humor, Some Plot, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Derek Hale, Table Sex, Top Derek, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Top Stiles Stilinski, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAddiction/pseuds/DropsOfAddiction
Summary: “Wait... Why exactly are you avoiding me?” Stiles jabs a finger at Derek’s chest.Derek growls and grabs his hand.“Because I embarrassed you. Because you came to me to keep you safe and because of how I feel about you, I couldn’t do the one thing you asked. I couldn’t handle it,” Derek says and he looks down to the floor again.Stiles breaks a little inside and he takes Derek’s chin in his hand.“You’re an ass.” Stiles says softly.“You’re the ass.” Derek mutters, refusing to look at him.“Look. Let’s just go back to a week ago. Popcorn on the couch, friends having fun, no feelings involved,” Stiles offers.It might just make his heart shrivel up and his dick fall off but he will take Derek any way he can have him.“I don’t know if I can,” Derek looks destroyed when he finally looks at him, “Smelling you like that... I can’t get it out of my head. It’s driving me crazy.”Stiles colours, blush creeping up his neck and Derek tracks it with a groan.Derek’s traitorous mind supplies a vivid image that it probably creeps down his neck and right down his body.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 64
Kudos: 1760





	You drive me crazy... But it feels alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, here we go, here we go... I think I’ve given up on plot, oh well, sue me. Wait, please don’t sue me...
> 
> Note at the end for something that didn’t have a tag.*
> 
> Just borrowing the teen wolf characters. Please don’t post this elsewhere.

“Why the hell would you come in here?!” Derek is staring at him incredulously.

Stiles yanks down the blinds to Derek’s office windows frantically.

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, his glare a mixture of angry and scared. His eyes dart around the space, heartbeat hammering in his chest. 

He suppresses the mad giggle threatening to spill out of his mouth when he sees that Derek’s got a little name plaque on his desk. 

Deputy Derek Hale it says. How successfully adult and very normal of him.

Stiles is a little bit proud.

When Derek slams the door shut, Stiles doesn’t bother being quiet. He knows all of the offices at the station are soundproofed; to human ears, at least.

“I don’t know! Fuck... I just in ran here. This was the first open door I saw!” Stiles is even more erratic than usual and he waves his hands around, gesturing wildly towards Derek. 

Derek hears his heartbeat trip in a lie but he doesn’t really know why he would lie about that. He lets it go. For now.

“What’s that stuff all over your face?” Derek crowds in close to him and reaches his hand out, as if to touch him.

Stiles grabs his wrist sharply.

“No, don’t. I don’t know what it is. That’s what I’ve been trying to say, she just threw it at me and I ran!” Stiles doesn’t let go of his hand.

Derek growls furiously. 

It’s dangerous, low and Stiles feels it in his actual bones.

It says something about how he feels about Derek that even through his imminent, impending doom and panic, his dick still twitches valiantly at that sound. 

So sue him, he has many complicated and sometimes very sexy Derek related issues. 

Derek’s in his Deputy uniform today and the shirt stretches dangerously across his chest. Derek steps back, folds his arms, eyebrows moving animatedly; it’s as if they’re trying to tell him something. 

Stiles is fairly fluent in Derek eyebrow talk these days. They hang out. A lot.

Right now, Stiles realises, they’re saying ‘Get on with it and tell me the full story’.

“So I was just bringing Dad’s lunch, maybe I had a sandwich for you too... Ok, I did, I had a sandwich for you, it was beef, you said the other day that you love beef and mustard and I thought we could hang and... Oh sorry, the relevant bits, right... I saw her getting out of her car and I recognised her from the picture Lydia sent over yesterday. She walked up to me. I thought she recognised me, I knew she was supposed to be meeting with you today about territory. I was just going to play it cool, introduce myself as Emissary but she had her hand clenched and I knew I’d read it wrong,” Stiles gets out in a rush, shaking his head.

Derek turns around and opens a drawer, yanking it nearly off it’s runner with force. He takes out what appears to be a spare T-shirt. He empties a jug of water that was sitting on his desk all over it.

“Strange time for a wet t-shirt contest but I’m not going to argue,” Stiles can’t help himself, humour, his defence until the last.

Derek approaches him confidently and takes his jaw in his hand. He begins to wipe Stiles’ face with the wet shirt. Stiles feels a tiny bit better, head a little less foggy, with every careful swipe.

Derek’s face is pinched tight with concentration and it’s at war with the care he’s showing touching Stiles’ face. He’s still holding him still with one large hand on his jaw.

It’s rather tender and for a second it catches Stiles’ breath at how gentle he’s being. Derek’s eyes keep darting towards the door.

When Derek sweeps the cloth gently over his mouth, Stiles parts his mouth willingly and he’s sure he must imagine it when Derek swallows and licks his own lips.

They’re close enough that Stiles can see every pretty, dark eyelash on Derek’s beautiful face.

Stiles’ eyes glaze over and he knows something’s very wrong with him. 

He’s become an expert at hiding his feelings for Derek over the years, so the fact that he’s feeling so out of control right now is very unusual.

He wants nothing more than to press his body to Derek’s and rub himself all over him. Nothing new, but the urgency and desperation of it is taking his breath away. He takes deep gulping breaths and runs his hands over his face, as if that’s going to help.

Derek looks at him curiously, cocks his head and sniffs the air.

His face is a picture of shock when he’s hit with two nostrils full of Stiles’ arousal.

Stiles steps back and immediately feels better, head marginally clearer.

“She’s dosed me with something,” Stiles groans, fidgeting, clenching his hands together.

His dick is rock hard in his pants and he fights the urge to press his palm into it. Or even better, press it into Derek.

“I figured it had to be something like that,” Derek says quietly, and Stiles would be forgiven for thinking he sounds almost disappointed.

“Fuck..” Stiles bends double, a wave of pleasure curling through him.

Derek sounds choked when he speaks again, echoing his words from earlier.

“Why here? Why not run into your Dad’s office or even Parrish’s? His office is closer to the front door,” Derek looks pained even asking him again.

Stiles can’t help but give an honest answer this time. It comes easily.

“Because I trust you,” Stiles moans, digging his fingertips hard into his jeans.

“But you trust your Dad. You trust Parrish!” Derek says.

“I know you can handle it. I didn’t know what she dosed me with but considering what I know about blue powders and Witches I had a good feeling it was going to be messy and awkward as fuck. And I know you would take care of me, whatever...” Stiles shrugs and his steady heart beat and confidence in him breaks Derek open.

Stiles approaches him slowly. 

Derek’s taking shallower breaths, trying hard not to inhale too deep. Stiles’ scent is insane to him right now.

Stiles always smells really good to him anyway, but this is ridiculous. 

Lately, Derek’s been starting to acknowledge the fact that he likes being around Stiles. A lot. 

He misses him when he doesn’t get to see him and since Stiles had taken a job as a Detective the next town over, he’d been seeing a lot of him. Stiles had wanted to be closer to his Dad and being closer to his Dad had meant being closer to Derek. Especially considering Derek was now a Deputy.

He’d nearly thrown it all in the fuck it bucket and almost kissed Stiles two nights ago. Stiles had been throwing popcorn at him all the way through their weekly movie night at the loft. It was usually just the two of them and they were currently working their way through Harry Potter.

Stiles had timed a well aimed shot at him while he was distracted with the part where the boys crash the car into the whomping Willow. As the kernel had hit Derek in the ear he’d grabbed Stiles’ hand with a playful growl.

With a yelp and a laugh Stiles had dropped the bowl and Derek had yanked him forward through the mess.

They’d ended up laughing, Stiles slightly pinned underneath him on the couch, as Derek held onto his wrists. They’d been inches apart when Derek’s phone had rang loudly, breaking the moment. 

Stiles had all but flung himself back to the other side of the couch and Derek had reached for his phone, clearing his throat. 

Stiles’ flushed, happy face and soft lips inches in front of him had been so unbelievably tempting.

It’s got nothing on this though. Derek’s struggling being this close to him when he smells like pure, undiluted want. 

Derek wants him. Yesterday. Possibly over his desk.

Stiles slows his approach when Derek growls at him and holds his hand out to stop him.

“I came in here because I know you won’t hurt me Der. No matter what I do or say,” Stiles says quietly, honestly.

Stiles whimpers when another shock of arousal spikes through him and this time, he drops to his knees. 

He grabs the bottom of his T-shirt hard in his fist, as if grabbing something will help ground him through it. The movement exposes a trail of black hair on Stiles’ stomach that crawls down into his jeans. 

He bites his lip so hard that Derek can smell a tinge of blood in the air. He can’t take his eyes off Stiles’ exposed skin on his stomach.

“Fuck. Stiles... you smell so fucking... I really think you might be giving me too much credit,” Derek bites out around fang. He knows he looks manic, his face pained, fists bunched hard at his sides.

He cocks his head to the side, hearing something that Stiles can’t.

“Get under the goddamned desk, she’s coming,” Derek growls, taking his arm and forcing him to his feet, then back to his knees again, behind his desk.

Stiles shrugs his arm free, but the frantic look in Derek’s eyes, combined with the fact they’re burning red at him and he’s showing a lot of tooth, makes Stiles scoot forward on all fours under the desk. 

Derek doesn’t lose control unwillingly, not ever, so the fact that he’s showing any part of the Wolf suggests an urgency that Stiles is starting to understand.

When Derek shoves him further under the desk with his foot and Stiles hears a short knock and the door opening, he knows they’re both in big trouble.

Derek was supposed to be meeting with a Witch who wanted to move into Beacon Hills. As part of a recent treaty Stiles had helped agree with the SCA (Supernatural Council of America- founding credit to Lydia, trailblazing political genius that she is) any supernatural wishing to move into a registered territory has to have the move approved by the resident Alpha. The resident Alpha being Derek Hale.

And now that very Witch that Derek had granted a meeting to had attacked Stiles.

Stiles tries to keep quiet but his dick has a mind of it’s own, throbbing hard. He’s going to need new jeans at this rate.

Stiles thinks of the chest cavity scene from Alien in alarm.

Stiles palms his dick and groans then bites his own hand when Derek nudges him gently with his boot. Reassuring him.

Derek sits down at his desk, knees at Stiles’ head. The fact that he’s sitting down is a blatant show that he isn’t afraid of the newcomer.

“Mr Hale. Good to finally meet you,” the Witch sits down. 

Stiles can see through a crack in the panel of the desk covering him; she crosses her legs and rests long taloned nails on her lap.

“I’d like to say the same, except apparently you’ve attacked a member of my pack,” Derek growls and Stiles is impressed at how calm Derek sounds.

Derek senses the Witch’s surprise. So it was just an unhappy accident?

“Ah... Oopsie. The boy in the car park? So very delicious looking. I was just having a little fun. I was going to look for him actually after our meeting, take him back to my new cottage when you’ve approved my move. I’m a tad weery of all this dating business, I’m actually five hundred years old now and I like them a little younger than me, hence the powder. Little gift given to me from an incubus. Speeds things up a little. Why, have you seen him?” She asks nonchalantly and winks at Derek.

Derek’s growl literally shakes the desk and Stiles subconsciously seeks to soothe him and he presses his cheek against Dereks thigh. His hands are busy pressing down on his own dick for dear life.

“He is not a toy for you to play with,” Derek says angrily, “and haven’t you ever heard of consent? I’ve heard it’s an appealing concept.”

Stiles knows Derek has pretty strong feelings on that specific subject. He’s been tricked and manipulated by nearly every person he’s ever had a relationship with. 

Stiles hates that he can still hear that hurt in him.

“Back in my day, they would fight for my attention Mr. Hale. But you weren’t around back then,” Stiles can still hear the smirk in her voice and he hates how she’s trying to belittle Derek, pointing out her experience.

Stiles gets hit with another wave of arousal and he presses his open mouth onto Derek’s trouser seam and he rubs his face back and forth. The friction calms him. 

It’s only when Derek’s hand comes down to thread into his hair, stilling him, that he realises how close to Derek’s crotch he’s inched.

He wants to put his mouth on him so badly but Derek’s large hand cups his head and holds him still, pressing his head firmly into his thigh.

Stiles bites him gently, a reaction drawn from being restricted. He’s feeling more animal than person right now. 

He needs to fuck and sleep. In that order. His brain is so foggy.

Derek thumps a fist down on the desk and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s related to what’s going on above the desk or under it.

“I’m going to make this fast,” Derek says and his voice is cold as ice, danger lacing every word. 

Stiles shivers at the tone and he clutches his hands around Derek’s leg, pressing as close as he can.

“You aren’t going to stay in Beacon Hills. You did the right thing by asking for a meeting but I’m denying your request to live here permanently,” Derek bites out.

The Witch stands up, losing her cool.

“Why? Because of a stupid little trick I played on that boy? He’ll have a good time with me. There’s nothing in the treaty about not playing with your pack members you know,” Stiles can hear her sneer.

“That ‘boy’ is the Beacon Hills Emissary and he could strip you of your powers in less than a minute if he wanted to. A little slower than I could rip your throat out, granted, but impressive all the same. There’s nothing in the treaty about playing with pack members no. But that ‘boy’ is mine.” Derek also stands up and Stiles finds himself face to face with Derek’s crotch, the high desk still providing him cover.

Stiles sees the hard outline of Derek’s dick straining in his trousers. He gasps softly, turned on so badly at the thought that Derek could possibly want this even a fraction as much as he does.

He tries to keep his mind on what is happening above the desk, but his body isn’t willing.

It’s pure instinct when he leans into Derek’s crotch and he scents him, pressing his face into the outline of his cock.

Derek, again, palms his head, pinning him still, but otherwise he doesn’t give anything away. 

Stiles can feel pinpricks of claws against his scalp and he knows Derek will have red eyes and sharp teeth to match.

When the Witch speaks again, she sounds enraged.

“Oh... Come now Alpha Hale, I’ve marked him now, the damage is done, you may as well hand him over. He’s probably going out of his mind looking for me anyway. That kind of magic only ends in one way and whether you like it or not, he will want me. Only me. It will drive him crazy unless he get’s it out of his system,” She shrugs and her laugh is cruel.

Stiles realises how calm Derek had actually been up until this point, when he finally loses it.

Derek reaches out, lightening fast and grabs the Witch by her jacket. He drags her sprawling across his desk top and he forces her head to look down at Stiles, who still has his face smashed into Derek’s crotch.

Derek speaks and his tone is lethal, leaving no room for argument.

“Does he look like he’s looking for you?” He snarls at the Witch.

Stiles looks up into the cold eyes of the Woman who’d poisoned him and he whimpers again, pressing impossibly closer to Derek.

“Alpha Hale. I seem to have miscalculated. I didn’t realise the boy was already enamoured. It seems his Magic is actually fighting my spell,” She still doesn’t sound happy. 

She sounds confused but at least a little contrite.

Derek lets her up. She smooths her blouse down and pats her hair.

“I’ll go. I won’t return. I don’t think Beacon Hills is such a good fit for me after all,” She says sweetly.

“Undo what you did to him,” Derek growls.

“I can’t. It will wear off. Should be soon, it’s only got an hours range, roughly. As long as is usually needed. You should take him yourself. It will stop sooner,” She says, walking away.

“If it doesn’t stop on its own, I’ll find you,” Derek says, voice cold and Stiles believes him.

Stiles hears the door to Derek’s office click shut behind her.

Derek looks down at him, pained look on his face and Stiles takes the opportunity to lick across Derek’s trousers, tracing the hard line of his dick with his tongue.

Derek makes a sound like he’s been punched and he yanks Stiles roughly to his feet, pressing him back against the desk and burying his face in Stiles’ neck, taking deep, heaving breaths.

Stiles wriggles against him, trying for friction but Derek takes one last breath and Stiles swears he feels the ghost of lips and stubble on his skin as steps back. He puts the desk between them.

Stiles whimpers and Derek’s eyes bleed red and his hands twitch as if to reach out for him.

“You were right to come to me. I’ll never hurt you,” Derek tells him, nodding.

“Derek, please. I need you,” Stiles isn’t above begging, especially when a new wave of heat hits him.

He bends over the desk and presses his dick into the cool wood.

“Der, I’m not going to regret this. I want you,” Stiles whispers, looking over his shoulder at Derek.

He feels Derek touch his wrists lightly and he thinks he’s finally going to get what he wants when he feels the cool snick of metal on his skin. 

He realises a second too late that Derek’s handcuffed him to the desk.

“NO! Fuck. Derek, please don’t do this to me,” Stiles hates how pathetic he sounds.

Derek sits down on the floor, back against the door and he just stares at him. His eyes seem to be stuck on red.

The next ten minutes are a blur of begging and heat and Stiles thinks he may have passed out. 

When he comes to, he’s sitting propped awkwardly in Derek’s desk chair, wrists unbound. 

Derek’s just watching him intently.

Stiles can feel his jeans sticking to him uncomfortably and he winces.

Stiles blinks groggily as Derek comes fully into focus. He’s still sitting against the door and his dark hair is sticking up wildly as if he’s been running his fingers through it. 

He’s taking short, shallow breaths and Stiles can see his chest heaving with effort.

“Well fuck a duck.” Stiles moans running a hand over his flaming face.

“Yep. A whole fucking pond full of them.” Derek nods his agreement.

———————

The week that follows is without a doubt the longest and most awkward of Stiles’ entire life; that’s even including the week that he, Scott and Jackson shared a tent at Camp Skylake that one summer at the tender age of fourteen.

As much as he still has horror flashbacks to the farting competitions and the one morning he’d woken up spooning Scott, it’s got nothing on having to attend pack meeting’s with Derek, knowing he’d seen him come in his pants. 

Now Derek, well, he is a trooper about the whole thing. Of course he is. Master of man pain and all that.

He’d bundled a silent Stiles into his car after that horrible day and he’d driven him to his Dad’s house. 

Stiles didn’t even point out he didn’t live there anymore. His apartment was the other side of town anyway and he didn’t think he had the strength to make it, even if Derek has driven there.

He’d made Stiles a sandwich while he’d showered and then they’d eaten in silence. Then Derek had patted him on the shoulder and left, timed perfectly and suspiciously well with his Dad pulling the Cruiser into the driveway. 

Stiles can’t get the look on Derek’s face out of his mind. It had been full of pity mixed with regret on as he’d walked away from him.

And that had been Chapter: Attack of the Sex Witch, done and dusted apparently. Derek didn’t bring it up again, so Stiles tried to do the same

It was doneski. Over. Keep on moving sister.

Except Stiles can’t stop thinking about it. Every time he closes his damned eyes he thinks of how Derek took care of him, how he’d protected him. How he didn’t take advantage even though he’d begged him.

He thinks about how his first instinct had been to go to Derek and how the Witch’s magic hadn’t taken hold because apparently, he was too into Derek.

He knows it wasn’t just his Magic that fought it. He knows enough about Incubus powder that if you’re already in love, it’s like a fail safe built in. It gives you some level of protection.

He cringes when he thinks about how desperate and tragic he must have looked to Derek.

He also thinks about how Derek’s dick had felt through his pants. He thinks about that a lot, while he wraps a hand around his dick late at night and he comes, face burning in shame but unable to stop himself.

Today, his traitorous mind is replaying how it had felt when Derek had his big, strong hands in his hair, pressing his head against his thigh. 

“Dude!” Scott whispers, punching him in the arm and breaking him free from this thoughts.

“Ow. What?” Stiles snaps, rubbing his newly forming bruise. 

He makes a mental note to try out that new little curse on Scott that he’s learnt. The one to make someone keep misplacing a specific item. Definitely his toothbrush.

“You smell weird,” Scott says bluntly.

“Keep your nose to yourself then,” Stiles looks over to where Derek’s sitting.

They’re in their usual meeting place at Derek’s loft. It’s a far cry from the sparsely decorated, cold shell that Stiles used to know.

A few lamps warm the room and the moon is large and bright in the huge glass windows, casting a yellow glow on everything. Stiles is tucked onto the comfy sofa with Scott and Lydia occupies the one seater tub chair.

Stiles pulls another piece of popcorn from down the side of the couch and he places it on the coffee table. Ah, when times were simpler.

Derek, of course, has dragged over a bar stool and he sits lording over them like a weirdly hot, stubbly umpire.

The place is cosy. Lived in.

Derek stares at a spot somewhere behind Stiles’ head. He hasn’t looked him in the eye since he’d left him at his Dad’s house.

“Sorry, I was daydreaming,” Stiles shrugs.

“Yeah I could smell. I mean tell,” Scott grins at him.

“Shut up Scott,” Derek growls.

“All of you shut up. Let’s wrap this up, I have work tomorrow. I have an 8am meeting with the Sunrise County Alpha and I’ve heard she’s even more direct than I am. I need my beauty sleep.” Lydia stands up.

Stiles stretches his arms up above his head and he yawns loudly. He stands up and follows Scott to the door.

He chances a look over his shoulder to where Derek hasn’t moved off his stool. He’s staring right at him.

Stiles gulps and Derek drags his eyes away and stares at the floor.

Stiles suddenly feels annoyed. It’s not a go-to emotion for him so it sometimes sneaks up on him. And boy is it hitting him hard.

“Go on without me Scott, I’ll walk back,” Stiles tells his best friend.

Scott cocks his head like the perpetually confused puppy he is.

“But the Jeep’s here,” Scott says.

“I need to talk to Derek about something,” Stiles says pressing his keys into Scott’s palm, “Take Lydia home. I need to see Deaton anyways on Saturday if you’re working?”

“Yeah I’m working. Ok... I’ll see you then? Text me when you’re home safe.” Scott hugs him and Lydia pecks him on the cheek.

“Yes Dad,” Stiles says and he shuts the door behind them, suddenly feeling very nervous.

He turns around and Derek hasn’t moved an inch. In fact, he’s still staring at the ground.

Stiles crosses his arms defensively and leans back into the door.

He knew he would have to be the one to bring this up. He’s not willing to lose Derek, not when they’ve gotten so close. So close to having what Stiles realises was probably inevitable, from the minute they’d met.

“I’m so sorry,” Derek says softly, still not looking at him.

And, what?

“What? Why are you sorry?” Stiles says surprised.

“Stiles, please don’t pretend it’s Ok because it really isn’t,” Derek says and he finally looks at him.

He’s not moving off his stool.

“No, you’re right. It isn’t Ok,” Stiles agrees. 

He’s just not sure why Derek is apologising when he should be the one apologising to him. Derek had obviously felt obliged to look after him and Stiles had gotten his feelings everywhere. 

Now he’d ruined whatever friendship they had because Derek wouldn’t come anywhere near him.

“Look,” Stiles offers, approaching where Derek’s sat, slowly, “I know you don’t want... I just wanted to say thanks. Thank you for taking care of me and I know I’ve made you uncomfortable. I just knew you’d keep me safe, I didn’t really think what it would be like on your end of things.”

Derek finally meets his eyes but his brow is furrowed in confusion and he looks angry.

“Stop apologising to me. I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t believe I just sat there the whole time, watching. I should have just left you and locked the door but because you’re my... you’re in the pack... my instincts were all over the place. I literally couldn’t have left you on your own, even if I’d wanted to,” Derek says desperately.

Now Stiles is confused.

“Wait... Why exactly are you avoiding me?” Stiles jabs a finger at Derek’s chest.

Derek growls and grabs his hand.

“Because I embarrassed you. Because you came to me to keep you safe and because of how I feel about you, I couldn’t do the one thing you asked. I couldn’t handle it,” Derek says and he looks down to the floor again.

Stiles breaks a little inside and he takes Derek’s chin in his hand.

“You’re an ass.” Stiles says softly.

“You’re the ass.” Derek mutters, refusing to look at him.

“Look. Let’s just go back to a week ago. Popcorn on the couch, friends having fun, no feelings involved,” Stiles offers. 

It might just make his heart shrivel up and his dick fall off but he will take Derek any way he can have him.

“I don’t know if I can,” Derek looks destroyed when he finally looks at him, “Smelling you like that... I can’t get it out of my head. It’s driving me crazy.”

Stiles colours, blush creeping up his neck and Derek tracks it with a groan. 

Derek’s traitorous mind supplies a vivid image that it probably creeps down his neck and right down his body.

“I said sorry. I wasn’t in control. Look. I, Stiles Stillinski, vow never to bring up my feelings or beg you to sex me up ever again. I can do platonic. I don’t want to lose you. I’ll even buy you multiple scented candles to get rid of the horrible smell that plagues you, Eau du desperate me,” Stiles dies a little inside at his own words.

Derek cocks his head in confusion.

“What?” Stiles says

“I don’t think a candle is going to cut it. I dream about it nearly every night,” Derek tells him, eyes flashing red.

“You have nightmares you mean?” Stiles groans with shame.

“No. That’s not what I mean. It was... the smell. You were...” Derek’s never been great with words.

“Embarrassing. Forceful. Gross,” Stiles helps him out.

“For fucks sake. No! Tempting. Addictive. Perfect,” Derek growls.

And oh. Stiles feels hope blooming in his chest.

“But you don’t want me?” Stiles offers tentatively.

“You’ve got no fucking idea how much I want you.” Derek says plainly.

“But... but...” Stiles is struggling, his brain working overtime to piece this together, the possibilities.

“But I understand that how you acted was under the influence of the incubus powder. So I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to step away from you. But I’ve felt like this for a while and it was so hard seeing you like that and knowing it was only because of magic. I hope one day you can trust me again,” It’s the most Stiles has ever heard him say in one go.

Stiles grabs him by the stupid face, smooshing his cheeks together. He grins madly.

“I thought you were mad at me because you were grossed out that I came all over myself in your office,” Stiles says gleefully.

“No...?” Derek says and it comes out garbled because Stiles is still squishing his cheeks.

“I thought you were mad because you’d figured out I’m hopelessly into you, have been for years really and you didn’t want the same thing,” Stiles laughs and it’s happy.

“No...!” Derek says and his eyes flash red.

“So you want me? And I want you? And it’s not because of any stupid magic or powder or anything other than the fact you’re totally into me and I’m totally into you and we want to see each other’s dicks?” Stiles clarifies.

Derek nods, still in Stiles’ hands, still sat on the stool.

“We should do that. We should do that right now?” Stiles says, heartbeat tripping recklessly in Derek’s ears.

Derek’s enthusiastic answer is to yank him toward him by the belt loops and press his lips to Stiles’. Stiles fits perfectly between the vee of Derek’s thighs and he presses into Derek’s body as he opens his mouth to him.

Derek licks right into the invitation, exhilarated at finally being able to touch him.

The unabashed groan that Stiles lets out puts the memories of him whimpering to shame.

He tilts his head back and Derek attacks his neck, biting and sucking at his skin, pulling down the collar to his t-shirt to get more access.

“Fuck. I thought you were a werewolf, not a vampire,” Stiles laughs breathlessly and gets his hand in Derek’s hair tugging lightly.

The growl Derek rewards him with is a noise he’s never heard from him, a feral mix of hunger and want.

Derek captures his mouth again and he can feel Stiles’ hard dick pressing against him, rocking into him.

Derek pulls back and Stiles whines.

“Go out with me,” Derek says staring at his mouth.

Stiles licks his lips.

“Obviously, yes,” Stiles says.

“We should slow down?” Derek offers, getting to his feet.

He stills plasters himself to Stiles’ front so the words seem a little redundant.

“What? Why?” Stiles exclaims.

“I don’t know. I just thought in case you wanted to? In case you were feeling a bit weird after last week? I don’t want you to think you have to...” Derek offers and Stiles notices his ears blush when he’s embarrassed.

“All last week did was heighten what I already wanted. I broke a Witch’s spell with my feelings for you! What I want, is to fuck you and then I want you to fuck me. Then eat, sleep, repeat, every day for the rest of our lives until we wither and die,” Stiles nods enthusiastically.

That seems to be good enough for Derek. His eyes flame and he lets go of Stiles, ignoring his protesting meep.

Derek turns around, places his hands on his large wooden table and he spreads his legs.

He looks over his shoulder and he looks Stiles straight in the eye and licks his lips.

“So fuck me then.” Derek growls.

“Holy fucking shit,” Stiles chokes out but he closes the distance between them and palms Derek’s ass through his jeans, digging his fingers in.

The room suddenly feels a million times too hot and Derek wants there to be a lot less clothes involved.

Stiles clearly reads his mind because Derek feels him reach around and undo Derek’s belt buckle. He pushes Derek’s head gently so he’s facing forward and not straining his neck to watch him.

It’s obscenely loud when Stiles slides down Derek’s zipper and he wastes no time pushing his jeans to his ankles, along with his boxers. Derek goes to lift his feet but instead he feels Stiles step on the bunched material trapping his ankles.

“Just stay... oh my god, you’ve no idea what you look like, just...” Stiles mutters and Derek thinks he’s partially talking to his ass.

He feels Stiles kneel behind him and barely has time to process what’s happening before he feels Stiles place a hand on each of his cheeks and spread him wide.

He’s kneeling on Derek’s trapped jeans and Derek’s never felt so turned on in his entire life.

He trusts Stiles entirely and he’s never had sex with someone he’s felt like that about. Not ever.

He vows to do it as much as possible when he feels Stiles swipe his tongue over his exposed hole.

Derek grunts and his hard dick presses into the table. He pushes back to ease the pressure on his dick but it’s timed too perfectly with Stiles licking against him.

Stiles proceeds to eat him messily and Derek’s seeing stars by the time Stiles gets a long finger fucking into him, alongside his tongue.

Stiles punctuates firmly pressing another finger inside him, with a bite to his ass cheek and Derek shakes with the need to come. 

But he doesn’t touch his dick.

Stiles fucks into him until he’s got three fingers inside him and he licks around where Derek’s stretched, his hole clutching Stiles’ fingers.

“Stiles, please,” He doesn’t recognise his own voice it’s so low and needy.

He can feel Stiles’ spit dripping down over his balls and the tops of his thighs.

Stiles stands up and Derek feels him undo his pants and when he feels Stiles’ hard dick shove between his soaked thighs he’s nearly done for.

Derek rests his head against the table and spreads his legs as wide as Stiles will let him.

It seems as though Stiles’ patience has reached it’s limit also, because he plasters himself over Derek’s back and strokes the back of his neck.

“Tell me Der. Tell me what you want...” Stiles’ voice sounds hoarse and Derek wonders what he’d sound like after sucking his dick.

“Fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to come in me,” Derek rambles and he doesn’t know where he’s getting his confidence from, he’s never been vocal in bed.

Saying that, he’s never actually been fucked before. He has a moment of clarity where he thinks Stiles might want to know that.

“You’ll be the first... the first guy to... want you to be the only,” Derek breathes out and he feels his neck flush.

The noise Stiles makes is positively wild. He actually growls and Derek’s heard real Wolves sound less possessive.

Stiles becomes frantic.

“Lube... where’s the lube. Fuck, I don’t think I’m going to even last that long,” He pants.

“Don’t care,” Derek whines and grabs a nearly empty bottle of Olive oil from in front of him that he uses for salad dressings.

He thrusts it into Stiles open hand.

“You’re kidding me,” Stiles bites but he’s started thrusting his long hard dick up Derek’s crack.

It’s slippery with spit and Stiles is leaking precome everywhere.

“Well sorry, I don’t keep lube on the kitchen table,” Derek snarks.

“Fuck, ok... fuck fine,” Stiles says and he kicks Derek’s ankles a little wider apart.

Derek feels it when Stiles pours a little oil directly on his hole and he feels obscene spread out like this for him.

Stiles throws the bottle back on the table and Derek whimpers when the head of Stiles’ dick catch’s on the rim of his wet hole.

Stiles presses inside slowly and Derek breathes around the stretch of his tip.

Stiles pushes until his hips are flush to Derek’s ass and they’re both panting heavily.

Stiles scrunches up Derek’s t-shirt at his back as if he needs to ground himself.

“This is going to last five seconds, you’re so unbelievably tight,” Stiles sounds strangled.

The fingers of his other hand bruise into Derek’s hips.

Derek feels... well, he feels perfect. He feels new and split open but it’s a good pain. He feels connected to Stiles. He feels grounded.

He rocks his hips back into him experimentally and Stiles takes the hint.

Stiles pulls nearly all the way out before pushing back into him.

Derek gives as good as he gets, pushing back hard and soon, Stiles is gripping onto the table at his sides for leverage, to fuck into him fast and deep. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes around the loft and Derek’s never heard anything so beautiful.

The table’s rocking dangerously with the force and their weight. Derek’s dick is still pressed against the table and his breath catches when he feels his balls tightening.

Stiles yanks him up by the back of his t-shirt but doesn’t slow his movements.

Derek clutches the edge of the table, claws gouging deep into the wood and he thanks god for Stiles’ growth spurt because they’re nearly exactly the same height.

The new angle puts Derek’s back flush to Stiles front, both of them tilted ever so slightly forward and it exposes Derek’s flushed cock.

Stiles gets one strong arm around his chest, holding him tight to him as he fucks up into him. Stiles bites his neck hard as he takes Derek’s dick in hand and Derek’s orgasm literally crawls up his body.

Stiles doesn’t even pump him, just grips him firmly, still fucking him relentlessly and Derek feels his balls draw impossibly tight as he comes. He shoots all over Stiles’ firm grip and the table and he clenches down involuntarily.

He’s never come with a dick in his ass, which will be his defence later.

His hole is like a vice around Stiles’ dick and Stiles digs his teeth into his shoulder even harder as Derek milks his dick.

Derek is still coming, dick twitching when he feels Stiles empty hot and wet inside him with a groan.

He collapses face first back onto the table, Stiles still pressed to him, still rocking his hips slightly.

They’re both panting like they’ve run a marathon and Derek sighs contentedly when Stiles licks over the spot where he’d bit him and he takes Derek’s hand in his.

“That. Was. Life altering.” Stiles whispers against his skin.

“Mmm,” Derek agrees stretching his back and pushing back on Stiles.

When Stiles pulls out of him, Derek feels his come trickle out and he feels his dick getting hard again, just from that feeling.

Derek stares down at it in surprise because his refractory period is never quite that fast.

The Stiles effect.

He turns around and Stiles is blinding. He’s a stunning mess. His hair is wild, pupils blown, cheeks red and flushed.

His mouth is red and wet with spit where he’d been biting on Derek’s skin and his dick, although softening, is long and cut and shining with oil and come.

His jeans are also around his ankles and he still has his t-shirt on.

Derek drops to his knees.

He holds Stiles by the thighs as he licks him clean and by the time he’s done, Stiles is hard again.

He stands up and kisses him softly.

“I know it’s crazy early, but I kind of don’t care because our lives are so fucked up we might die tomorrow so... I love you. Everything about you...” Stiles says quietly.

“You won’t die tomorrow. Unless you can get dicked to death. You’re not leaving my bed for two days at least,” Derek grabs a handful of his ass and pecks him playfully on the mouth.

“Erm, excuse me. Did sex make you get a sense of humour? Also, you just said dicked... who are you?!” Stiles says in awe.

“Someone who is ridiculously gone on you. You have to know I love you too. I think I have for a long time. I feel incredible. No ones ever... ever... No ones ever made me feel like you do. I don’t just mean the sex either,” Derek tells him, grinning.

“Stop smiling, you’re freaking me out Sourwolf,” Stiles pushes the at sides of his mouth trying to get him to frown.

Derek grabs his hand and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth.

“Eep,” Stiles says eloquently as he watches Derek’s warm tongue lave his hand.

“You drive me crazy,” Stiles breathes, kicking his jeans off.

Derek echoes him and strips his own shirt off for good measure. Stiles eyes his chest hungrily and Derek picks him up by the thighs and kisses him again.

Derek walks him down the corridor to his bedroom, stopping only to pin him against the wall and attack his mouth.

Derek dumps him unceremoniously on his bed and stands back to look at him.

He decides that Stiles needs to always stay in his bed, he looks just right laid out on his back.

“Take your shirt off, it’s my turn,” Derek crawls up the bed, touching every inch of him as he goes. 

Stiles throws his shirt at Derek’s face but Derek only presses his face to it and inhales, eyes flashing red and he shoves it under his pillow.

“You shouldn’t be able to pull off threatening when you’re naked but you so can and ohmygod!” Stiles cuts off because Derek is licking down his exposed chest and he bites gently on his nipple.

Stiles’ back arches off the bed and Derek keeps licking and kissing down his torso.

Derek’s face to face with his perfect dick, long, cut and flushed.

Stiles watches him, propped on his elbows. Derek’s never done this before but he’s watched a lot of gay porn. Namely with dark hairy muscly guys fucking brown eyed twinks but as he takes Stiles in, he realises it’s got nothing on the real thing.

Stiles isn’t really twinky anymore, not really. He’s tall and thin, sure, but he has tight muscle running the length of his body. He’s also surprisingly hairy Derek notices with glee as he buries his nose in Stiles’ treasure trail and inhales.

Stiles gives a gentle tug on his hair and he’s not asking for anything but his eyes are begging. He’s looking at Derek like he hung the moon.

Derek feels a swell of confidence that he’s done that to Stiles and he tentatively licks around the head of his cock.

Stiles throws his head back into the pillows but keeps a hand, gentle, in Derek’s hair.

Derek decides to go for broke and sucks on his dick like it’s his favourite ice cream and it’s about to melt. He licks up the sides in long strokes before swallowing it down and trying not to choke on it. He runs his tongue around the head, flicking it against the slit.

His own dick grinds hard into the mattress and who knew he’d love sucking dick. Well, Stiles’ dick anyway.

The noises Stiles makes encourage him to be even bolder and when he feels him nudge the back of his throat, instead of pulling off he pushes down. He forces himself to swallow around the head of Stiles’ dick.

The sound Stiles makes is guttural and he clenches his thighs around the sides of Derek’s head so Derek does it again and again until Stiles is tugging roughly at his hair.

Derek pulls off with a wet pop and he’s pissed.

“I want you to come,” He growls and Stiles is looking at him, teeth grit together.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing at that. I want you to fuck me though, I want to come with you inside me,” Stiles tells him desperately.

Derek flips them with superhuman strength and sits so his back is against his headboard and Stiles is in his lap, legs stretched around him.

“That won’t ever not be hot,” Stiles grips his shoulders and laughs.

Derek waves the lube in his face.

“Sneaky. Want me to ooof,” Stiles is cut off again when Derek presses a lube wet finger against his hole, reaching around him and kissing him at the same time.

It’s entirely different being able to see him, see the expressions he makes.

Derek’s achingly hard by the time Stiles is riding his hand, four fingers fucking wetly in and out of him. He’s still so tight, so Derek scissors his fingers for good measure and Stiles cries out.

Derek holds him open as he finally pushes up into him and they both still to catch their breath’s, Derek just an inch inside him.

Derek’s dick is thick and long, so much so that even a four finger stretch hasn’t quite made it easy to slide into Stiles.

Stiles bites down on his lip as Derek inches into him and Stiles loses patience first, sitting down fully when Derek stops moving altogether.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” Stiles groans.

“Too much?” Derek grunts, trying not to come just from being inside him.

“God no, you’re perfect. Just... can I... let me do it,” Stiles says and what proceeds is an experience Derek has only fantasised about.

Stiles uses his legs to ride him painfully slowly, Derek’s dick dragging in and out of him, catching on his rim on every stroke and Derek feels every second.

It goes on for what feels like hours but could be minutes. Derek never wants it to end.

They kiss, stroke and touch each other and it’s only when Derek feels for where his dick is stretching Stiles open that Stiles starts to move faster, more desperate.

“I need... Derek, please, I need...” Stiles says and Derek was waiting for him.

He plants his feet on the bed and on Stiles’ next downstroke he rocks up to meet him and Stiles cries out.

Derek keeps the pace though, fucking him hard but not fast, not allowing it to become frantic, wanting to draw it out. It’s the perfect kind of torture.

When Stiles gets close, Derek can see it building by the way he flushes all over.

It’s hot and they’re both sweaty, the smell of them both together is driving Derek to the edge himself.

“You’re so perfect Stiles. Let go. Come on me. Come all over me, you’re so beautiful stretched out on my dick,” Derek tells him biting on his lip.

Derek rubs around his hole, pressing, feeling his dick slip in and out of him.

Stiles comes untouched and Derek watches him in awe as he throws his head back, come coating Derek’s abs.

With a choked out grunt, Derek lifts him and lowers Stiles gently down onto his back. He pushes back into him and proceeds to fuck him into the mattress, throwing Stiles’ knees around his waist.

By the way Stiles locks his legs around him, it seems he doesn’t mind Derek taking what he needs.

He grabs Derek’s ass encouraging him and when Stiles manages to push a finger back into Derek’s come wet hole, feeling where Stiles fucked him open earlier, Derek’s done for.

Derek comes deep inside him, dick pulsing and he collapses bonelessly onto Stiles.

Stiles huffs out a breath and laughs delightedly.

“Well. I think I speak for everyone when I say that went fucking spectacularly. You do realise that no-one in the world will ever compare to that...?” Stiles tells him, throwing an arm over his eyes, but keeping one around Derek’s back, stroking him.

“Good.” Derek says and presses his face into Stiles’ neck.

Derek just breathes him in. He’s everything.

————————

Two days later...

————————

“Stop it Der, they’re going to know,” Stiles shoves Derek away as he tries to pin him against the fridge in Derek’s kitchen and kiss him.

Derek’s eyes flash red and he snarls.

“I want them to know.” Derek says growling, voice low, “I want everyone to know.”

Stiles throws his hands up in the air.

“Possessive wolf. Me too... I just think, let them have their lunch first and when they’re occupied eating, we can tell them and then I can run away. Scott cried when I told him I kissed Dennis Wilder at prom behind the bleachers. He’s not good with change, especially when it comes to me. Throw you in the mix and he’s going to have an fucking aneurism,” Stiles whispers, thrusting a large bowl of chicken salad at Derek, along with some smaller plates and serving spoons.

“Well, if he cried at that, he’s going to shit a brick when he finds out you had my dick in your mouth this morning then. Also, who’s Dennis Wilder and do I need to be worried?” Derek smirks at him, eyes sparkling.

Stiles nearly drops the jug of water. He may never get used to flirty Derek. He hopes he has a lifetime with him to try though.

“Shit. Stop it! Don’t you dare tell him specifics. You can tell him today if you want to, just let him eat his lunch first. Lydia too. She gets hangry. Also, yes, Dennis was a fantastic kisser, you should be terrified, I might run off at any moment,” Stiles whispers furiously, wagging a finger in his face.

Derek puts the bowls down and stalks up to him. He cradles Stiles’ head so that when he uses his body to push him into the fridge, he doesn’t get hurt.

Derek’s eyes are burning when he licks into Stiles’ mouth. He holds him still by the jaw and he nips Stiles’ lip, a little on the side of too hard, as he pulls away.

Derek steps away with a last soft peck to his lips and leaves Stiles with his mouth hanging open.

“Dennis who?” Stiles breathes, grinning, adjusting his pants. He makes a mental note to play on his boyfriend’s wolfy instincts a lot more often.

Derek just rolls his eyes dramatically at him and grabs the bowls of food. He walks into the main room where Scott and Lydia are talking animatedly at the table.

When Derek puts the food down and takes a seat on the bench, Scott turns his attention to them. Stiles sits down next to Derek, placing the jug of water down and he proceeds to serve everyone a large helping of his Babcia’s chicken salad.

Derek is wisely keeping his mouth shut but he’s eyeing Scott who is now absent mindedly running his hands over deep claw marks on the kitchen table.

Stiles notices what his best friend is doing and he looks at Derek panicked. They’d cleaned everything but Stiles is still paranoid that Scott will smell something.

Lydia looks between the three of them suspiciously and Stiles can almost see the cogs in her brain turning, working it out.

Derek is fighting a grin, hiding it behind his fist which he has pressed to his mouth.

“Dudes. Do you have any olive oil dressing?” Scott asks around a mouthful of chicken.

Stiles flails and sends the jug of water flying, mainly because Derek snorts loudly with laughter.

Stiles glares at him, betrayed.

“What’s so funny?!” Scott exclaims, reaching for the napkins.

Lydia calmly gets up and swaps sides of the table, away from where the gouges are. She takes her salad with her.

“Scott... I’d stop fingering those claw marks if I were you. It’s about damn time you two...” She says sweetly and proceeds to eat her food.

———————

Scott never eats at Derek’s loft again.

**Author's Note:**

> * Stiles gets dosed briefly with something but it doesn’t last and works out alright for all parties in the end.
> 
> It’s late so if I’ve missed any tags please give me a shout. Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Much love...


End file.
